


Break my throne and cut my hair

by Ravensmores



Series: Break my throne and cut my hair [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Forbidden Love, Hopeful Ending, Injury Recovery, Isekai Another World Zine (Yuri!!! on Ice), King Victor Nikiforov, Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mild Blood, Soldier Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores
Summary: Victor's quill freezes in mid-air. “Were they armed?”“No, but they had enough poison to take down the entire army.” Yuuri sighs, lowering his voice as he takes a step closer to the desk. “Though I believe we both know who their only target was.”“They are getting bold,” Victor murmurs, lowering the nib back down to the parchment in front of him and mentally chastising himself for the flicker of fear he feels swirling in his stomach.There had been enough attempts on his life already, this really shouldn’t be phasing him anymore.Yuuri clears his throat before he continues. “Given how close the previous group got last month, I’m requesting permission increase the number of men on nightly patrol.”Victor raises his eyes to finally meet the other man’s face. “Granted.”Yuuri smiles a little as he holds Victor’s gaze, the rich honey of those eyes just as soft as he remembers. His armour is shined, cloak neatly spilling over his left shoulder, the royal symbol of the Nikiforov’s snowflake stitched immaculately into the fabric. It’s the textbook image for addressing royalty.Victorhatesit.





	Break my throne and cut my hair

**Author's Note:**

> My SFW piece for the Isekai: Another World Zine!
> 
> Working on this project was so much fun so I'm super glad to finally be able to share this story with you guys!
> 
> Big thanks to [Axlaida](https://axlaida.tumblr.com/) for all their amazing help and support!

_3 months post __coronation._  


If there’s one thing Victor wants to do right now, it’s _ nothing _ .  
  
Throw the parchment off his desk, rip off his robes, lie down atop his sheets in darkness and just do nothing.  
  
He’d relish the thought of an empty schedule, hell, an empty hour would do. Just a few minutes that he could have for _ himself _ . Since his coronation he can’t remember if he’s even had ten minutes to himself to just think. To take a moment to process exactly what had happened to him: the work, the politics, the _ life _ he has to lead now.   
  
He can still feel the gold of his crown judging him harshly from across the desk, even under the cloth he’d thrown over it. He was sick of seeing it as he passed every window, sick of people staring at it rather than looking him in the eye and sick of how the instant it was placed on his head he knew it was slightly too small, the edges of the metal digging into his forehead in a near-constant reminder of who he was now.  
  
Grabbing the next document to sign, he almost jabs the tip of his quill through the table at the sound of the knock at the door.  
  
“I said I did not wish to be disturbed.” He knows the annoyance in his voice is barely hidden, but frankly any modicum of silence was a blessing these days.  
  
“Your Majesty, the captain of the guard wishes to speak with you,” his manservant’s voice nervously chimes through the door. “He says it’s a matter of urgency”  
  
He stops writing.  
  
_ Yuuri? He hasn’t spoken to him since _ -  
  
“Send him in.” The words are out of his mouth before he has a second to think.  
  
He pulls the cloth off his crown and places it as comfortably as he can on his head. He knows Yuuri wouldn’t talk to him directly unless it was important and besides- 

He hears his heavy footfalls as he walks to the table in front of him-  
  
_ It’s been a while since they’d had a chance to talk. _ __  
  
“Your Majesty.”  
  
“Captain.” He keeps his eyes fixed to the documents in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
“Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.” His voice is as firm, but Victor still hears a small hesitation catch in his throat. “We have news.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“We caught another three spies from the neighbouring kingdom a few miles outside of the King’s Wood.”  
  
His quill freezes in mid-air. “Were they armed?”  
  
“No, but they had enough poison to take down the entire army.” Yuuri sighs, lowering his voice as he takes a step closer to the desk. “Though I believe we both know who their only target was.”  
  
“They are getting bold,” Victor murmurs, lowering the nib back down to the parchment in front of him and mentally chastising himself for the flicker of fear he feels swirling in his stomach.  
  
There had been enough attempts on his life already, this really shouldn’t be phasing him anymore.  
  
Yuuri clears his throat before he continues. “Given how close the previous group got last month, I’m requesting permission increase the number of men on nightly patrol.”  
  
Victor raises his eyes to finally meet the other man’s face. “Granted.”  
  
Yuuri smiles a little as he holds Victor’s gaze, the rich honey of those eyes just as soft as he remembers. His armour is shined, cloak neatly spilling over his left shoulder, the royal symbol of the Nikiforov’s snowflake stitched immaculately into the fabric. It’s the textbook image for addressing royalty.  
  
Victor _ hates _ it.  
  
“I’m also requesting that I might station men outside your chambers at night,” he continues, his strong, polite tone not slipping. “At least until we finish sweeping the city and all outlying forests.”  
  
Victor raises an eyebrow. “Do you really consider that necessary?”  
  
“Absolutely.” The answer is instant. “Last time one of them made it into the castle and I’d rather not take chances.”  
  
He leans forward to rest his chin in his hands, letting a small smile tug at his lips as he speaks. “And would one of these men be you, Yuuri?”  
  
He catches the briefest blush warm the tips of the other man’s ears at the words. “I’d be leading the search parties.” He watches Yuuri remember himself and straighten his back, the first hint of an old nervousness colouring his tone. “Unless you specifically request me that is.”  
  
Victor sighs and corrects his own posture. It didn’t look like there was any fun to be had here after all.  
  
_ Even from someone like _ -  
  
“I’ll feel the safest with whichever course of action you think is best,” he murmurs, cutting off his disappointed train of thought and turning back towards his papers. As he goes to grab his inkwell, he catches the flash of discomfort on the other man’s face as he moves his arm from behind his back.  
  
“Thank you, Majesty. With your permission, I’d also like to-”  
  
“It’s hurting again isn’t it?”  
  
He’s visibly caught off guard by Victor’s words. “Pardon?”  
  
“Your shoulder. You’re in pain.” He keeps his tone flat. Factual.  
  
Yuuri immediately straightens himself. “It’s nothing.”  
  
The words are barely out of Yuuri’s mouth before Victor is standing next to him, lightly pressing his finger through the chainmail on his left shoulder. He feels an old guilt wash through him as Yuuri quietly grunts, biting his lip against the pain.  
  
“Yuuri-”  
  
“Please.” He flinches away from Victor’s finger, dropping his gaze. “I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re not fine,” he murmurs, grabbing onto Yuuri’s other arm and turning on his heels. “Come with me.”  
  
“Majesty?”  
  
He turns his head, for once using his regal tone for something _ actually _ important. “That’s an order Yuuri.”  
  
***  
  
Leading them through the door at the back of his study, he pulls Yuuri into his private chambers and gently pushes him towards the bed.  
  
Yuuri stands awkwardly, lightly rubbing his bad shoulder. “I shouldn’t-”  
  
“Sit.” It’s not a request.   
  
Yuuri shuts his mouth at Victor’s stern expression, perching awkwardly on the edge of his bed as Victor grabs what he needs from the table and heads back.  
  
“You really don’t have to do this,” Yuuri murmurs, averting his gaze as Victor sits on the plush coverlet next to him, moving the candelabra by the bed a little closer.  
  
Victor smiles a little as he places the bowl he picked up next to him and squeezes the excess water from the cloth floating inside. “I fear the guilt would eat me alive if I didn’t.”  
  
He slips his hands around the front of Yuuri’s neck, deftly unhooking the ties of his cloak and watching it pool next to him. He bites his lip at the memory of the last time he’d seen it so close: torn and muddied as it was desperately pressed against Yuuri’s crumpled body in a crude makeshift bandage, the shouts of chaos around them nothing compared to the screams he could hear ripping past his own lips at the sight.  
  
He shakes the image away. 

_ Not now. Not with Yuuri _   
  
Taking a breath, he gently pulls off the heavy chainmail before slowly pulling down the top of the thin shirt underneath.  
  
He can’t stop the horrified gasp at the sight of the angry redness staring back at him.  
  
“Majesty-”  
  
“Shhh.”

He’s hears the click of Yuuri abruptly shutting his mouth as he pulls the shirt over his head and lightly traces his finger across the old wound. While the previously deep gash is now far more healed than the last time he saw it, it’s the bright sore skin blooming all around the rough scarring that has an old fear brewing in his gut.  
  
“How long has it been like this?” His voice is barely a whisper as he gently dips the cloth in the cool water, moving the longer strands of Yuuri’s hair away from his shoulders.  
  
Yuuri flinches as the cloth lightly touches the damaged skin. “It isn’t impeding my work.”

He gasps as Victor presses his fingers a little harder, an old irritation flaring. “Answer the question Yuuri.”  
  
“Maybe a fortnight.”  
  
Victor rings the cloth more firmly between his hands in frustration. “How could you let it get like this?”  
  
“There hasn’t been a good time to see a physician.” Yuuri lets out another stuttered breath as Victor continues to delicately clean the worst of the redness, one hand gently resting against the soft skin of his lower back. “Not with all the spies in our midst.”  
  
He fights the urge to press hard again. Of course someone like Yuuri would put his own health below his job, below his station, below protecting _ him _.

He tries to calm himself as he wrings the cloth, knuckles white. The annoyed huff that escapes Victor’s lips softly brushes the hairs on the back of the other man’s neck. “I could order you to take leave you know.”  
  
Yuuri lets out a small laugh. There’s no sweetness to it. “I know you won’t. With all the friction from the neighbouring kingdoms, I know you won’t send away the best soldier you have.”  
  
Victor rolls his eyes. “Bold claim.”  
  
“You know it isn’t a claim.” He straightens himself again as Victor removes the cloth from his back. “I can put up with a little pain.”  
  
Victor feels his composure snap.  
  
_ “A little pain?” _ He watches Yuuri jump as the slap of the cloth in the bowl ricochets around the walls of his chambers, his lips shaking as he speaks. “Yuuri, do you think I like knowing that you’re working when you’re in so much discomfort?” He feels all the pain of the past few months spill angry and free from his mouth. “It’s my fault it happened. I want to see you recover.”  
  
“Majesty-”  
  
“Stop that.” He gently grabs Yuuri’s shoulders, dropping forward to rest his head against the curve of his neck. “It’s just us here.” He desperately wants to hold him properly, remind himself of how good it felt to have him, find the tiniest comfort in his embrace. _ “Please.” _  
  
Yuuri sighs softly. “It wasn’t your fault.” He pulls away but shifts so he’s facing him, a small sorrow starting to crinkle around his eyes. _ “Victor.” _

He feels a little happiness spark in his heart at the word. He’s almost forgotten the sweet way the other man’s voice curled around the syllables of his name.  
  
“You didn’t agree to that coup,” he murmurs, finally letting himself sweep the longer strands of his hair away from Yuuri’s face, resisting the urge to trace the soft curve of his ear with his thumb.  
  
“No. But I did agree to protect you.” He lightly taps his shoulder, smile not faltering. “And I did.”

He winces as the memories ooze to the front of his mind. Watching the spear pierce right through the back of Yuuri’s armour as he pushed Victor out of the way, standing outside of the medical tent for hours, barely registering the news that his father had fallen during the final push or that the men kneeling in front of him were cheering for him as their new King while everything he ever cared about was bleeding out on a dirty makeshift bed behind a mud-soaked tent flap.

“You could have died.” His words are pained, an echo of the same thought that swirled in his head every time he saw Yuuri pass in castle hallways.  
  
“It’s going to take more than that to kill me.”  
  
Victor tastes the bitterness on his tongue as he laughs. He remembers him saying as much when he was finally able to see him after days of sitting outside his room: tired, weak but _alive._  
  
It was the last time he’d looked at Victor like an equal.  
  
Like a friend.  
  
Like a _lover_.  
  
“I miss you,” he murmurs. The words are small. Honest.  
  
Yuuri sighs as he turns away slightly, the dim candle light reflecting an old sadness in the richness of those bronzed eyes. “I’m right here.”  
  
“No- I miss this.” He reaches over to grab his arm again, anything to stop him from leaving. “Perhaps not these exact circumstances, but I miss-” _the nights where Yuuri kept his bed warm, the days exploring the Kings Wood, the secret softness of their shared touches-_ “Us.” He takes another breath to steady the pain starting to burn in his throat.  
  
Yuuri exhales again, reaching back to lightly squeeze Victor’s hand before gently unhooking the fingers curved around his bicep. “We can’t keep having this conversation,” he whispers, voice flat and measured. “It’s over now. We both agreed to that.”  
  
Victor catches the ‘why’ between his teeth, swallowing it back down like the bitterest herbs. The wound of their relationship was old enough. They’d exhausted shouting and crying about ways for them to work a long time ago, both begrudgingly slipping into the roles that fate had thrown at them and screaming their tears and frustrations into their respective pillows when only the night could judge them.  
  
He drops his head and moves the basin of water to the ground, words quiet but strong as they creep past his lips with aching sincerity. “I’d give up a thousand kingdoms if you’d just let me love you the way you deserve to be.”

Yuuri sighs. It’s an aggravatingly familiar sound. “You can’t say things like that,” he murmurs, avoiding his gaze. “Not anymore.”

“What if my father hadn’t-”  
  
“There’s little point discussing ‘what ifs’.” Yuuri’s words are hard. Almost cold. “Even if he hadn’t been slain, you were going to be King eventually. We never could have-” He trails off shaking his head at the words caught in his throat.  
  
There’s a beat of chilled silence between them. 

Victor desperately tries to find something, anything to tell him so he’ll stay. So he won’t walk away and leave Victor with nothing but the guilt of his injury and the pain of his heart splintering a little bit more.  
  
“Are you prepared for the ceremony tomorrow?” Victor asks as brightly as he can. Since the confirmation that Yuuri would be knighted, it was the only thing he’d been looking forward to for months.  
  
The sadness in Yuuri’s smile breaks a little, his eyes softening. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”  
  
“There’s no one else I could ever imagine protecting the realm.”  
  
There’s the echo of an old tease as Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Protecting the realm or protecting _ you _ ?”  
  
“Both,” he murmurs, lightly brushing his finger down the soft curve of his jaw. _ “Sir Yuuri.” _   
  
It’s as if Victor had touched him with a heat of an iron poker, Yuuri almost immediately flinching away from the caress, eyes wary.  
  
“Yuuri-”  
  
“I should start preparing for tomorrow,” he murmurs as he abruptly stands, turning his back to Victor and gathering his discarded clothes.

As he ties his cloak back in place, Victor can’t stop himself standing from the bed, a thought that had been buzzing in his mind for weeks suddenly escaping past his lips with the desperation of a caged falcon. “Do you still think about us?” The words are quiet, yet seem to echo with the force of a scream around the walls of his chambers.

It takes a few long seconds for Yuuri to reply.  
  
Victor eventually sees him visibly exhale before he turns, the rich swirl of his eyes boring open and clear into his own. _ “Of course I do,” _ he whispers, the ache in his words matching the one in Victor’s heart. “You were my first love Victor.” He takes another breath, the force of emotion in his voice briefly catching in his throat. “And I think we both know you will be my only.”  
  
“ _ Yuuri _ .” The space between them is closed in an instant, Victor’s hands cupping his face, his mouth pressed to Yuuri’s in a desperate bruising kiss. For a few seconds he feels as if he’s kissing a statue, Yuuri unmoving in his arms, his lips a firm line. He almost pulls away in frustration, bitterness rising on his tongue at his own actions before he registers the gentlest caress at his back, one of Yuuri’s hands lightly stroking through the ends of his hair and his mouth opening just a little so he can feel the warmth of his breath. He feels something inside him melt as Yuuri’s resolve fully breaks, the other man’s arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer as he slants the plushness of his lips firmly against his own. Victor chases the sweetness, lets the pain of the past few weeks slowly melt into nothing but the soft press of wandering fingers and warm lips.  
  
He lets himself forget. For the briefest moment, he lets everything melt back to a time when everything was simple. When he was just a nobleman’s son and Yuuri his guard.  
  
_ When kissing the man he loved wasn’t a crime. _  
  
Eventually they part, the rosy flush dusting Yuuri’s cheeks still visible in the dimmed light. Victor keeps them close as he leans down to lightly rest his forehead against Yuuri’s, his voice feather soft. _ “Stay here tonight _ .”  
  
Just one night. It’s all he wants. One last night to lose himself in the familiar sweetness of their shared touches. To hold him. Love him. Brand the feel of Yuuri’s body softly spooned around his own in his memory so he no longer has to-  
  
He’s pulled out of his revere by the soft press of Yuuri’s hands against his chest, the other man’s expression sobering as he parts them.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
The hushed words sting like a cold slap in the face as Yuuri backs away a little further, his eyes cast down. “They’re expecting me back tonight to prepare for tomorrow.”  
  
The inches between them might as well have been the vastness of an ocean, the foolishness of Victor’s hope suddenly as plain as the crown digging into his head.  
  
He holds up his hands, slowly pacing away as he tries to hold in the raw burn of old tears that are starting to well behind his eyes. “Yes. Yes, you’re right,” he murmurs as he continues his defeated retreat. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Victor-”  
  
“I should not have been so inappropriate.” He cuts him off in the most formal tone he can, turning towards his chamber’s window, desperately trying to ignore the glare of his crown in his reflection.  
  
Yuuri doesn’t need to see him cry.  
  
“Wait, I-”  
  
“If that is all Captain, then you have my leave to go.”  
  
He waits for the slam of his chamber door, the sobs scraping in his chest ready to burst free the instant he’s alone again. As he takes another shaky breath, he’s surprised by the sudden the warmth of familiar arms slowly wrapping themselves around his chest, a voice low against his ear.  
  
_ “Tomorrow.” _  
  
Yuuri slowly turns Victor until their eyes meet again, his expression warmer than the candles surrounding them. “My whole unit will be out celebrating after the ceremony,” he reaches up to fix the longer hairs slipping out of his crown, his voice nought but a whisper. “After a few drinks I doubt they will notice if I’m gone.”  
  
He feels the chill taking root in his mind evaporate at the words, the burn in his throat cooling. Taking one of the hands currently resting against him, he slowly brings it to his lips, the love he can feel unfurling warm and sure in his heart reflecting clear as the sun on his face as he softly kisses Yuuri’s palm. “Then may this night end swiftly and tomorrow arrive soon.”  
  
Victor knows Yuuri is aware of the danger, that there’s more than one suicide mission the council will be more than happy to send Yuuri on behind Victor’s back if they catch wind of any of this.  
  
He also knows they’re both in too deep to ever escape, the hope that somehow they can make this work a spark that’s never going to be extinguished.  
  
Pressing one last lingering kiss to the other man’s wrist, Victor releases him and softly nods, the smile on his mouth a mirror of Yuuri’s as he bows.

***  


It's almost strange seeing Yuuri kneel before him like this.  
  
It’s certainly not the first time he’s been in such a position, either pledging himself or taking time to indulge Victor behind the closed door of his bedroom, but this is different.  
  
He knows what the court surrounding them sees as he lightly taps his shoulder with the flat of his sword: a soldier, a hero, a knight... but Victor’s knows he’s so much more, deserves so much more than a mere title and a seat underneath him.  
  
_ He’d pull the stars from the sky for him if he asked. _ __  
  
As their eyes meet, he feels the fire between them blaze with the power of an inferno, the promise of their reunion hanging thick and secret in the air between them. So many words he wants to whisper against his skin burn in the back of his throat, a thousand aches and promises about their uncertain future ready to spill forth. 

Though one thing he knows with certainty.  
  
Pulling Yuuri to his feet, the thunder of the applause around them is nothing compared to the drum of his heartbeat dancing wildly at the feel of his hand clasped firmly in his own.  
  
_ No matter what titles they both had, he’ll never be anything other than his. _  
  
His only.  
  
His love.  
  
_ His Yuuri. _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/) \- @ravensmores  
Or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RavensmoresFics) \- @ravensmoresfics


End file.
